


Homeless, Drifting

by scribeklio



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Featuring Pup!, Fluff, Post Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5148200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribeklio/pseuds/scribeklio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time comes to leave Skyhold; every ending a new beginning</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homeless, Drifting

Legs dangling over the side of the rotunda, Livi made an attempt to commit the sights to memory. In her mind’s eye she saw the stalls, messengers and soldiers running up the stairs, the serving girl at the well… She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, musing about how everyday simplicity had become a treasured memory. All she really saw was sandy grey stone, almost tan in the sunlight. 

A chance at other senses had passed; the smells of horses and perfumed lords, the sounds of commerce and camaraderie, all gone with the retreat from Skyhold. What remained was the whipping sound, pine scent and chill feel of the mountain air; the only things that were or would be constant here. There was never any doubt that someday they would leave, but none of them had dared speak of it either, at least until the Consul meeting started. This was the way it worked, the way you moved forward, fearlessly letting go of the comfort of a name, an organization, an institution all for the greater good. The logic didn’t help the bittersweet taste in her mouth, nor the sensation that she was being severed from part of herself. (Something she now quite literally knew from experience.) Their group was becoming a name in a long list of occupants, a list some Enchanter Librarian of the future would have to shelve. She leaned forward, braced on one arm, her body tense with change despite the many she had weathered so far. 

It was coincidentally the same spot in which she had been made Inquisitor, and despite that, she found it a poor replacement for roof time with Sera, or battlement chats with Cole. It was certainly nothing like all the other memorable times on the battlements, a small smile forming as she filtered through recollection. As if by magic, of the sort she couldn’t control, her thoughts summoned Cullen. 

He had two heralds now: the one he had married and the one who bounded 10 yards in front of him at all times, tongue lolling. Livi might have referred to them both as bitches, but sadly Cathaire was very much male. 

His high bark turned her attention up to the main doors, just in time for him to start pouncing down the stairs, two and three at a time. He caught his momentum and sat when he reached her, making Livi cheer internally over training that was finally paying off. The problem hadn’t been his intelligence, no it was a stubborn streak that kept him crashing into and leaping on various people over the past few months. Smart, hard-headed, extremely affectionate, amber eyes: their first child in all but form. 

She shifted, twisting to reach the white fur of his chest, the proscribed place for scratches, and to watch her husband following with a small chest. The sight of him out of armor was rapidly becoming the norm rather than a rare treat. His fur-collared coat now layered with plain, but finely made tunics, most in the jewel tones they were fond of. Dark blue today, stark against the plain backdrop of Skyhold covered in snow. Livi mused about Banna Trevelyan’s immaculate taste, that particular cloth sent to her daughter after a cousin in the Order had informed her of Cullen’s “handsome and rare Fereldan coloring.” 

“Last of the books.” He set the chest down after squatting beside them, his hand now free to scratch Cathaire’s ridiculously soft head. 

“Can I say it again?” Livi knew the answer before asking, but Cullen smirked anyway. 

“Yes.” 

She cocked her head to catch his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He exhaled, something like very small snort, his eyes shiny, amused. They were now joking about their first fight as a married couple, and they had every right to. Snark about packing too many books paled in comparison to past heated exchanges in the war room. The look was further reassurance that everything was well, one of the many signs she had had to learn to interpret. 

A rough thumb found her cheek and began tracing the long scar parallel to her jaw. Black curls blended with her dark hood making her seem paler, more worried yet stronger. “Already forgotten.” 

Livi reached under and up to grasp his hand with her remaining one, her magic hot enough to warm his fingers through her glove. 

He let go a few moments later to offer his shoulder, the assistance welcome despite all the relearning she had done. 

Now standing close he cupped her hand in both of his, a small part of the warmth he felt merely the ever-present joy of touching her, loving her. 

“The last party left an hour ago. We’re to lock up behind us.” 

Little puffs of air mingled between them, the tips of their noses pink and chill bitten. His smirk gained an edge while they paused to let her words hang. Hardly shy anymore, Cullen’s next words were low only for added effect. 

“We could make love in the middle of the courtyard. Anywhere really.” 

That had her raising her eyebrows and pulling him close, hips pressed together. She was both picking up on the mood and gaining space so she could give his ass a gentle squeeze. “Dearest husband, the things you say.” 

“You like saying that.” 

“That novelty may wear off, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop grinning when I say ‘my Cullen.’” 

Part of her had recently be sounding the need to add ‘father’ to his list of titles. Alone she had practiced the word and for him it was heavy and sweet, like the honey of his eyes. 

“Fair enough.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, his, surprisingly, deliciously warm. 

“As much as I would love for you to bend me over every available surface, we have to make it before Satinalia, and,” She genuinely sighed. “I don’t need a repeat of last time.” 

The devilish grin Cullen returned put under consideration, for the briefest fraction of a second, the total abandonment of her principles. 

“Don’t be cheeky.” She teased “Sera still collapses into giggles and sometimes calls Crestwood, ‘Crotchwood.’” 

“How is Sera?” 

“Good; she and Dagna are making the rounds in Jader, and she’s still utterly terrible at keeping gifts secret. Apparently her lady love will be done with an arm soon.” 

“The last time I saw Dagna she was muttering about fusing cloth onto a ironbark cast.” 

“If it’s plaidweave I’ll cry, and not from happiness.” Cullen’s chuckle was forced and it had nothing to do with her arm. 

“Still nervous?” Their first destination was South Reach, for a long overdue and lengthy holiday visit while they figured out what to do next. 

“A little.” The soft, youthful sadness, the same he always tried to banish by rubbing his neck made her chest tighten.

“Cullen, they love you, and love goes pretty damn far. Just look at us!” That brought him back, an old allusion to their former lives and the smug satisfaction earned with having navigated their pasts.

Her husband pulled her into a hug, finally pressing them fully together. “One more night in the old tower?” 

How could she deny him? Perhaps that night she could claim another miracle, albeit one that happened so often. She hadn’t broached the subject with him yet, but a chance at making a child here, in that bed. One final memory that could make their departure sweeter in hindsight. In the morning, well before witherstalk tea, Livi would ask him. 

She tilted her head challenging her Commander with one final mission. “It doesn’t feel like snow, but find me a brazier and we have a deal.” 

“Lady Rutherford.” 

“Commander Rutherford.” They shook hands to seal it and Cullen turned to make his way down the stairs, looking back once he reached the bottom. 

After a few moments, and a few shared looks with her hound she found the flaw in their plan. 

“Wait! How are we going to get Cath up?” He heard her clearly in the chill air, and turned around offering her a large exaggerated shrug that could be seen across the yard. 

She laughed; for her over-grown Chantry boy, in the face of change, at the notion that it didn’t matter if she was lost as long as she had him.

**Author's Note:**

> Cathaire was one of Andraste’s disciples and a general of her armies ie. Livi and Cullen are both devout history nerds.


End file.
